


TURN, & FACE THE STRANGE

by electricanomaly



Category: Deca-Dence (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricanomaly/pseuds/electricanomaly
Summary: Minato and Kaburagi take some time together to reflect after the events of Episode 12.
Relationships: Kaburagi/Minato (Deca-Dence)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	TURN, & FACE THE STRANGE

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago. It ends somewhat abruptly because it was going to be longer. It was mostly done, but I ended up losing interest, so I cut it off at a non-cliffhanger. Rated 'mature' only because said second part was going to be NSFW (sorry!), and I want to give people a heads-up that's the case if I continue it. I don't suppose I ever will, but if there's any interest I may consider it. Maybe!
> 
> I don't write, so this might not be the best fic, but I for sure enjoyed writing it. I thought it would be fascinating to explore the psychological effects that the mechanisms of the very science-fiction world of Deca-Dence have on its characters and their relationships. But I mostly wrote this because I just really adore Minakabu!
> 
> If there are, by some twist of fate, any surviving Deca-Dence fans occasionally scrounging through this tag who happen to read this, let me know what you think--I appreciate any feedback :)

Kaburagi’s hand traces along a shelf, following a path of neatly-arranged tools. Kaburagi rubs his fingers together, expecting to feel the soft friction of dust between his digits, but experiences none. He never expected to see his old Tanker house this clean.

A smile tugs at the corner of Kaburagi’s mouth. “So this is your welcome-back gift.” He squints up at the bright ceiling light. “Replaced the lights, too.”

“Ah, I fixed those a while back,” says Minato, leaning uncomfortably on the wall, staring at nothing. He smirks slightly, eyes averted. “No idea how you could see anything before.”

“Huh. So you’ve been keeping this place up.” Kaburagi scans the room. Everything is in about the right place, but without the familiar uncleanliness and dishevelment courtesy of himself. Minato’s touch has given his house an unfamiliar sterility, a change that makes Kaburagi almost able to comprehend it had been three years since he’d last been here.

Three years since he’d seen Minato, as well. This was quite an event.

Yet their conversation was as stale as the air of Kaburagi’s house, filled with a heavy waft of stagnant citrus air freshener.

The initial reunion had been one-sidedly tearful, of course, with Minato clanging against a confused Kaburagi to smother him with hugs. Not that Kaburagi minded, but why all this? Wasn’t he about to fight the Gadoll? Wasn’t Minato on the other side, anyway?

And when he, bewildered, asked Minato about all these things, he was met with an answer. Kaburagi had nodded, scarcely reacting—not comprehending. 

Three years he hadn’t felt.

And then as he saw Minato and Jill, who had never met, speak with such familiarity, saw the new Deca-Dence, now an antonym of what it just was, saw Natsume again, grown up in an instant, he felt to be drifting between sleep and wake, these visions merely a fleeting ebb of thought that would dissipate after a blink. But reality persists. And he doesn’t know what to do, so he only says the smallest things. 

“It’s nice.”

—

“I suppose,” Minato shrugs, betraying the wild cluster of desperate kinetic energy trying to pierce its way out of his chest.

After the final battle, after Kaburagi had gone, Minato, in his moments of solitude, couldn’t help but daydream about conversations with Kaburagi. He knew it to be an unhealthy addiction, but self-awareness couldn’t stop a grieving fantasy. Over those three years, Minato weaved hundreds of iterations of imaginary monologues seeping with undiluted sincerity, expressing everything he was never able to say, would never be able to say. But now that the unbelievable had happened—Kaburagi had come back—the library of carefully articulated emotions he had constructed had melted back into unrefined feeling, now kept at bay by a wall of anxiety, reinforced by the catastrophic impact of Kaburagi’s awkward detachment. But of course, life is too realistic for it not to be this way.

As Kaburagi continues looking around his house, Minato reclines on the couch on the opposite wall. He taps his foot, then shakes his leg, then feels along the hard seat of the chair for imperfections. He traces along scratches, explores seams. He watches Kaburagi pace slowly back and forth, then doesn’t, unfocusing his vision until Kaburagi’s shirt becomes a vague yellow pendulum rhythmically oscillating.

“Oi, Minato,” Kaburagi says, jolting Minato back to cognition.

“Hm,” says Minato.

Kaburagi walks toward his front door, leans against it. They both stare at the wall. An unwanted motionless hangs in the air.

“Liking the couch?” says Kaburagi.

“Oh, I can move if you want to sit-“

“No, no, it’s fine.” Kaburagi smiles and puts his arms behind his head. “I’ll pass. Better to stand. I mean, that thing is...”

“Horribly rock-hard.”

Kaburagi grimaces. “Yes. That.”

Minato smiles and raises his eyebrows. “You’ve got a rock couch and no decorations, and I know you had more than enough credits to fix that.” He puts his arm over the back of the couch. “Really, I was starting to think you hate comfort,” he teases.

“Hey, hey!” Kaburagi says, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes, but failing to hide a smile. He scans Minato, making Minato avert his gaze. “You seem more...relaxed than before,” says Kaburagi.

“Really?” says Minato. “...Um, how?” he questions. He leans forward in his seat, thoughtfully clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you _slouch_ or _lean_ before today. And I never thought I’d see you joke again, but here you are. Think that means you’re doing better.”

”I suppose, in some respects.” Minato chuckles weakly, then sits up, pressing his thumbs together. “...Kabu, how are _you_ doing?”

Kaburagi exhales, looking up at the ceiling. “I uh.” He grimaces a little. “Don’t know.” He closes his eyes. “It’s too different.”

“I see.” Minato looks at his knees.

“I mean, it’s what I wanted.” He crosses his arms. “Hell, it’s _everything _I wanted, but…”__

____

____

“But it’s so sudden,” adds Minato.

Kaburagi nods. “A day ago a rogue Gadoll was about to wipe out all of humanity. Today, Jill and Natsume are playing with spoonwormers together.” His head turns to Minato, his mouth uncomfortably twisting around, trying to formulate a thought. “And...and you’re with me.”

The sudden words pierce into Minato’s heart, releasing a rush of warmth into his whole body. He flushes, eyes wide, unable to meet Kaburagi’s gaze.

“It’s strange. But...not bad.” Kaburagi smiles. “Not bad at all.”

—

Kaburagi feels it too.

When his processors seem a little bit back on track, when the fog in his core starts to clear, what immediately comes are...feelings.

When was the last time he and Minato had been alone together when not arguing about the game, when not pleading for the other to consider their side? A long time ago for Kaburagi, and even longer for Minato. Such a long time since those younger days when they were fighting together, since the magnetism that came with it. And now Kaburagi supposes they were fighting side-by-side again. No conflict, no friction, just two old friends, and one room, and, boy, a shit-ton of pent-up feelings.

For a while, neither of them say anything. They stay silent, in amazement at this new frontier, realizing all the boundaries that had once separated them had crumbled. The only thing now keeping them apart is a few feet and a few moments of bravery.

And...something else. Some sort of discomfort of unknown source hanging around them. No, around Minato. It keeps him far away.

Yet Minato speaks up first. “Say, Kabu, I uh, have a better place for you to sit.”

“Hm?”

Kaburagi watches Minato stand up, walk over to a chest across the room, and pull out a large, plush blanket and pillow. He unrolls the tightly-rolled blanket and places it over the seat cushions, folds it over the back pillows as well. Taking care to align the blanket parallel to the gap in the cushions, his movements are calculated and hesitant. He puts the pillow off to the side. Kaburagi walks over and sits down on the couch as Minato begins to move in the other direction. “Minato,” he says, making Minato turn around quickly, looking at Kaburagi inquisitively. With a shy smile, Kaburagi pats the open space next to him.

Minato averts his gaze, crosses his arms and let out a “pfff” as a very real smile creeps across his face. Minato remains facing away from Kaburagi, but his legs lead him forward to where Kabu knew he wanted to be. He sits down delicately, sticking to the other side of the couch, uncomfortably shoved up next to the armrest.

“Definitely more comfortable,” says Kaburagi, impressed. “Think I could rest here for a while. Maybe even sleep.”

“Mm, it’s usually pretty easy to fall asleep here.”

“Huh.” 

Wait.

Kaburagi nearly laughs in shock. “You’ve _slept_ here?” 

“Ah!” Minato nearly jumps back in his seat. He bears the bewildered look of a man caught mid-crime. 

Kaburagi squints at Minato, thinks for a second, then relaxes. ”Yeah, that’s the kind of thing you’d do.”

But Kaburagi’s teasing falls flat. Minato just looks at the ground, his bangs falling over his face. He looks ashamed, yes, but more than that he looks...sad.

“Minato?” Kabu asks, leansing towards him. Nothing. He clears his throat, then look away. “I mean, I. Uh. Don’t really care if you stayed in my house, that’s—“

“No, that’s not it,” Minato says. He looks up, but still away from Kaburagi. Far, far away from him.

Well, shit, Kaburagi feels dumb. What could it be? He can’t imagine. So he just looks expectantly at Minato.

Minato’s eyes look back and forth, as if he‘s carefully deciding on words. He then breathes in and closes his eyes. “I...came here. A lot,” he says. “When you were gone.”

Of course he did.

Minato swallows and squeezes the fabric of the blanket. ”I spent a long time here. Trying to process...what happened.“ 

Ah.

Kaburagi feels like sinking.

Minato continues. ”I couldn’t change anything. I couldn’t take care of you. So I suppose tried to take care of this place instead. Jill said that was my way of grieving.” He sighed shakily. “I’m sorry. This is...stupid.”

“It’s not,” insists Kaburagi, his brows furrowing. He understands, he understands so much, and it makes him ache, it threatens to make him lose composure.

“Hah,” Minato chuckles dryly, without an ounce of humor. “You can’t just grieve for three years, and one day, everything’s fixed, and those years are gone.” He looks at the ground next to Kabu, looks at his hands imprinted in the soft fabric of the blanket. “I’m still...grieving,” Minato says.

Kaburagi shifts. “Minato, I…” But the words won’t come. How could they?

And Minato, sitting there and hugging his knees, looks so alone, like a man who’s been lost at sea, who knows that he’ll never reach land, that it’s over. So he just sits there, watching the waves go by, given up, but finding no peace in his surrender to the tides. Kaburagi wants to save him, wants to lead him back to shore and be able to tell him it’s okay. But he knows it’s not that easy. And he knows he’s so awkward, so bad with words, and he fears he’ll make it worse, and he can’t do anything, so he just sits there, silently. Uselessly.

“Kabu…” Minato says, forming his name so gently, Kaburagi’s core could melt. Minato finally looks Kaburagi in the eyes, something he so seldom does with anyone, it leaves Kaburagi shaken. “I look at you, and I feel...I feel like I’m going to look away for too long, and when I look back, you won’t be there.” He wipes his eyes; the dampness glistens on his wrist. “Kabu, I don’t know how to stop missing you.”

Something rages inside of Kaburagi, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He never knew these things. He pats Minato’s shoulder. “I’m here.” No, no, this isn’t it. This isn’t how he feels. He knows how he feels. So Kaburagi, in a move of unthinking desperation, clasps Minato’s hands, moves closer to him. “Minato, _I’m going to be here._ Okay?”

Kaburagi sees the sadness slowly drain from Minato’s face, replacing itself with wonder. His eyes widen, illuminating with realization. 

They’re so close, each one’s fingers pulsing against the other’s hand, aching to be even closer. “Minato, I...I...” He can’t say it. And he hates it. He hates how the words he means so completely, in every aspect of their definition, are so stupidly simple, so easy to pronounce, but don’t come when he needs them.

But Minato seems to know what they are, because he kisses him. He kisses him fearlessly, forcefully, slowly pressing his lips harder against Kabu’s. Minato unclasps his hands from Kabu’s and runs them from his palms all the way up to his shoulders, his thumbs pressing above his collarbone. Kabu feels…ah, he feels so…

But Kabu pulls away. “Haaaah?” He breathes heavily, his eyes wide, face helplessly flushed. His hands hover uncertainly over Minato’s waist.

Then Minato laughs. A real laugh. A throw-your-head-back and close-your-eyes laugh, the kind of laugh Kaburagi would replay in his memories when he was lonely. Minato wipes his eyes one more time. “You’re here, aren’t you?” He grins. “You’re real.” He removes his right hand from Kabu’s shoulder, traces it along the side of his face and into his hair, running his fingers through the waves. His smile fades a little, and he turns his head away. “Um, sorry for that. But I’ve been...wanting to do it for a while.”

“No, no.” Kaburagi raises his hands to Minato’s cheeks, delicately pointing him back towards him. “I um...well, it was…” he grimaces, almost coughs the word out, “...nice…”

Minato grins again, but this time it’s filled with mischief. He shifts closer to Kaburagi, closing the uncomfortable gap between them, then then rests his head on his shoulder. ”Kabu…” Minato closes his eyes. “I’m so glad…”


End file.
